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By LOUISE FAZENDA
unfriendly world; my hair fell in limp, drab folds — it was hair and that’s all ; my mouth was neither pouty nor cupid-bowed — it was something to put food into ; of my nose, the less said the better ; and my forehead and ears, exposed nakedly to the public, gave me a horrid, undressed feeling. I was not
struck me. I had always played a little; of course, I was an embryo Paderewski. Why hadn’t I realized it before?
My imagination ran so riot that I pictured great audiences held spellbound under my music, then the clash of applause. Yes, I’d show them yet.
Living in flats is not conducive to genius — nor flat-dwellers sympathetic. One evening while rendering my own version of “Hearts and Flowers,” there was a hard thumping on the ceiling — I must be quiet or move. I kept quiet.
Then I painted. Our rooms were mazes of lurid sunsets and moonsets, landscapes and seascapes — just which was which was rather difficult to discern. The family walked dazedly about with a rather bilious appearance and went off their food, till a kind friend came to their assistance. Wouldn’t I like to make some money for Christmas? The picture company where she was employed were to use lots of extras soon — would I like to try?
“I’d love to, but I’d have to ask the family.”
There was a pow-wow, and while great-aunts and .second cousins gazed disapprovingly at this rebellious ugly duckling, it
Mis.s Fazenda finally worked her way up to ingenue roles “But I couldn’t ‘inge’ worth a cent and it ended in my being fired.” Then in desperation she tried the Mack Sennett studios, altho her friends had warned her, “Keep away from that place if you value your life”
pretty. Only a girl can realize what a terrible realization that must be.
For a month I was s el f c o n scions — what was I good for?
I had ambitions, but for what ? One day an idea
was decided that, as I had caused quite enough trouble already, they’d better let me have my way. Moving pictures .sounded {Continued on paijc 69)
tThnty fv£)